Knotty Princess And The Pea
by DavidPresents
Summary: A damsel in distress version of the old story.  Rated for light bondage.


Once upon a time there was a (cough, cough) charming, handsome, courageous, compassionate, trustworthy, selfless, witty, imaginative, intelligent, sincere, courteous, attentive, resourceful, diligent, ethical, magnanimous, chivalrous, romantic prince named Marcus who was the heir apparent to the throne of the insignificant country of West Zhdalstk. Prince Marcus was in the United States of America, supposedly completing his higher education, but in truth, living the carefree life of a billionaire playboy.

One day Marcus received a letter from his Uncle Boris and Aunt Chrysanthemum, the King and Queen of West Zhdalstk, in which they politely enquired about his studies (Marcus hurriedly skimmed over that section) and then touched upon the delicate matter of Marcus finding himself a ibu_**real**_ princess to become his bride.

**And get that sorted out soon!** his uncle had written in his forceful hand. **The populace is in the mood for a royal wedding, so we've scheduled yours for the summer, right after your spring semester. And don't think about pulling a fast one and trying to palm off on us a burlesque dancer posing as a princess, because we'll know!**

The worst part was, they really would know if Marcus tried that, because Aunt Chrysanthemum had herself been a burlesque dancer before Uncle Boris had successfully palmed her off as a princess. Marcus sighed. He had no desire to get married, but, like a character in a P. G. Wodehouse novel, he was completely dependent on his uncle for his sustenance. "Things will be different once I'm king," he promised, but considering the robust health of Uncle Boris, that seemed many years away.

"Where am I going to find a princess?" Marcus asked himself. The only princess he knew was Princess Nina of East Zhdalstk, who was also in the USA, but, unlike him, genuinely attending school. She had once been Marcus' girlfriend until, after a terrific row, she had told him if he ever attempted to communicate with her in any way whatsoever, even indirectly, she would call her parents and have them send an invading army across to border to annex West Zhdalstk. Therefore, she was out of the question, but then who?

"I need to get married in a hurry to a real princess. Do you know any?" Marcus asked anyone who would listen, including his barber and bookmaker, the billiards instructor in Sharky's Pool Hall, the bartender at the Flying Squirrel Tavern, and the hatcheck girl at the burlesque show. Some of them offered leads on eligible bachelorettes, but further investigation into their princess credentials proved none the Genuine Article.

Word of Marcus' search spread rapidly. Princess Nina heard of it and could have easily set him up with a dozen real princesses she knew personally; however, as she was Not Speaking to him, she shrugged her shoulders when an excited friend whispered the gossip to her, and nonchalantly continued her Calculus homework.

Word also reached Ruthie-Beth Audigger. Ruthie-Beth was a farmer whose one-hundred acres of land bordered the Dark Forest where The Wolf had his famous adventure with Red Riding Hood and her grandmother, not that either the grandmother or granddaughter plays the slightest role in this story.

"Some prince is looking to get himself hitched," Ruthie-Beth told her Siberian husky, Ivan, who wagged his tail in reply. "A feller by the name of Marcus."

She crunched into a delicious Delicious harvested from her orchard. Ruthie-Beth's apples made good eating; they had earned her pie a blue ribbon in the county fair, although she used most of them to concoct applejack, a potent drink made by freezing hard cider and removing the water crystals that separate in the process. Its raw flavor is definitely an acquired taste, but they like it that way up in the North Country.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if he'd marry me!" she exclaimed.

"Woof!" barked Ivan, reminding her that Marcus was looking for a real princess, which Ruthie-Beth definitely wasn't.

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "I'd have to fudge the facts a little."

"Woof?" _A little?_

"Once we're married, I'd become a princess automatically, that's how that works, so it would be the truth then, so I'd only be anticipating matters a bit if I called myself a princess now. Besides, how's he going to know if I really am one or not? I mean, it's not like there's a test they can give you!"

Ivan whined unhappily. He did not share his mistress' certainty on the matter, but Ruthie-Beth tossed her apple core into the bushes and hopped up from her rocking chair, busily Making Plans.

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"Hi, this is really awkward, um, you must be Prince Marcus, right? I'm Princess Ruthie-Beth, and…"

"Did you say _Princess_?" Marcus interrupted. The name Ruthie-Beth didn't exactly have a royal ring to it, and she didn't look or sound all that princess-y, but he couldn't afford to take any chances.

"Why, yes, I'm a princess, not that that's important," Ruthie-Beth explained with forced lightness. She stood on the stoop of Prince Marcus' townhouse, dressed in a blue checked dress and snakeskin cowgirl boots, with her honey ginger hair swept gracefully on the top of her head. "I'm sorry to bother you at home, but you see, I'm in a bit of a damsel in distress situation and I remembered hearing about what a total hero you were, so-o-o-o-o…." She paused, thinking how wonderfully a rambunctious thunderstorm would help lend her plight dramatic effect, but unfortunately, there was not a cloud in the evening sky. "Um, sorry, but could I maybe finish this explanation inside?"

"Yes, of course!" Marcus exclaimed, not about to let a potential princess get away.

"Pick that up, would you?" Ruthie-Beth asked sweetly, pointing to her overnight bag resting beside her. She could have carried it easily enough herself, but she felt it best to get him used to doing things for her. "You see what happened was... wow, you sure got a nice place here, lots of good paintings and statues and stuff. Are you an art collector?"

"I try to keep the place looking pleasant," explained Marcus, the truth being he simply enjoyed buying expensive things most people could not afford.

"Right, well, what happened was, I was driving along when my pick-up truck developed engine trouble, that's the old clunker, parked outside. I'm sure I could fix it, but it'd take time and it's getting dark, and you never know, a, uh," a wistful tone entered her voice, "thunderstorm might blow up suddenly, so I thought it might be better to tackle it in the morning. In the meantime, would it be too much of an imposition if I stayed the night?"

"Please do!" Prince Marcus exclaimed, elated. There were two princess tests he knew; one was to have her kiss an enchanted frog and turn him into a prince, which was not applicable here, of course, and the second was for her to sleep on a bed with a pea hidden under the mattress. If the pea kept her awake, then she was a true princess. Things were working out quite conveniently, he thought happily, so much so that it did not occur to him to ask why she happened to have an overnight bag all packed, since this was clearly an unexpected stay on her part. "The guest bedroom is through here!"

"Thank you," said Ruthie-Beth, relieved he had suggested the guest bedroom rather than his own. She was certain she could calm him down easily enough with her strong right arm, but too much calming down could be detrimental to her plan, which, quite simply, was to spend the night. The next morning she could round up her numerous cousins, who would pay a visit to the prince, prodding him with their shotguns as they talked about Sophisticated City Dwellers who lured Innocent Country Girls into their Love Nests, so wasn't he going to make an Honest Woman of her? They would keep their weaponry firmly focused on him, too, until he did the Right Thing.

"Just thinking I'm a princess should be enough on its own to do the trick, but it doesn't hurt to have backup." She looked around the spacious guest bedroom, also decorated with numerous objets d'art. "How fancy," she murmured, emptying her overnight bag. She changed into her pajamas, a two-piece shirt and pant set, green with yellow borders, that covered her much more fully than her blue dress had. She locked her door, leaving the key inserted so it would s_tay _that way, flicked off the lights, and settled into bed.

She could not sleep, however. She fidgeted, unable to get comfortable, although her restlessness had nothing to do with the pea beneath her mattress. She seemed to see the face of her husky, Ivan, looking reproachfully at her with his haunting, brown eyes. He thought she was a perfect person, yet what she was doing here…

"…is just plain wrong!" she announced, punching her pillow. "Ruthie-Beth Audigger, I'm ashamed of you! You know darn well you should only ever get married for love, without tricks or shotguns! I'm telling Marcus in the morning I'm not really a princess! If he can accept that, who knows, maybe things'll develop and we'll have that wedding one day, but only for the right reasons! But if he won't have anything to do with me when I tell him the truth, then I'm better off without him. It's not right to marry someone just because of whether she's a princess or not!"

In her imagination, Ivan licked her face. He was happy his mistress made the right decision! Ruthie-Beth smiled, and with that determined, fell fast asleep.

If this had been a normal night, she would have continued sleeping sounding. The next morning, the truth of her status would have been revealed, and that would have been the end of the matter.

However, this was not to be a normal night.

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Ruthie-Beth woke suddenly, disoriented and groggy, so for a moment she forgot where she was and thought the furry paw on her mouth belonged to her husky. Something was wrong, though, for Ivan would not hold it there, and, while she often imagined him talking, he could not do so really, and he certainly would not address her as "baby." She then remembered she was in Prince Marcus' townhouse and sat up.

Or tried to sit up. What was wrong? Her legs couldn't move, and neither could her arms! Ropes tied her feet to the lower railing of the bed and her hands to the upper one! Coils circled her green pajama pants, binding her legs together. There was a wad of cloth in her mouth; she tried to spit it out when the paw moved away, but the intruder tied a bandana before she could act, completely gagging her!

"Sorry, baby," apologized The Wolf. Ruthie-Beth could see him now that her eyes had adjusted, dressed in dark clothing to blend into the darkness. "I need to relieve this room of some of its contents without you interrupting me. I still remember that strong right arm of yours!"

"Mpfff!" Ruthie-Beth pulled with her powerful arms, but The Wolf had considered her strength and the ropes held. She looked at him as he placed the statues and paintings adorning the room into a large burlap bag. She knew he was a scoundrel and that a purist might look askance at certain of his actions, considering them as being of dubious legality, but he was definitely not a Hardened Criminal. She remembered he had once stolen a few of her chickens (after catching her unawares and tying her up first!) but eventually had paid for them… well, after she had escaped, tracked him down, and wrestled him into submission, anyhow! Why was he doing this, then?

"Just stealing back stolen good, baby," The Wolf explained. "Prince Whatshisname bought them off a fence, but the museum wants them back. They had a pretty good idea they were in his place, but no proof to take to the cops, so they decided not to involve them and hired me instead. Best of all, there's nothing the prince can do about it once he realizes his stuff's gone; I mean, what's he going to do, call the cops?"

"Mpfff," said Ruthie-Beth, feeling a little better. If he had told her, she would have helped him; there had been no need to tie her up! "I guess it's just that he likes tying up damsels," she thought, recalling the chicken episode. "And rescuing them, too," she added, recollecting another one.

Red Riding Hood's grandmother was not the only individual living in the Dark Forrest; the Three Bears dwelt therein as well. Once Ruthie-Beth had made a mistake and borrowed some money from Papa Bear, not realizing he was a vicious loan shark among other dastardly things. Unable to pay his usurious interest, she had pleaded with him to accept back the original sum plus a small extra. He had refused, and bound her hand and foot! After tying a heavy rock to her feet, he had thrown her into a deep pond.

Just before she had gone under, Ruthie-Beth had seen a blur of action. The Wolf had raced to her rescue! He had jumped in and pulled her out safely. He had also said something to Papa Bear; Ruthie-Beth never knew what, but he had left her alone afterwards.

Returning to the present, though, this time The Wolf had tied her. "He can be a hero or a villain; you never know what Wolfy's going to do!" she thought.

"I'll be sure to lock it again," he announced, meaning the bedroom door. "Sorry I have to leave you this way, but you'll be able wriggle free, after I've made my getaway!"

Wriggling free proved to be an extremely difficult task for Ruthie-Beth. She tried making muffled calls for help through her gag, but Marcus apparently could not hear her. _Besides, the door's locked, and I doubt he has Wolfy's skill! _She spent the long night hours turning her hands, picking at the knots binding her to the upper bedframe. They were tied so tightly! She would work and work on a knot at a frustratingly slow pace before finally loosening it to have to start the process on yet another. Finally, as the sun filtered through the curtains, she freed her right hand.

"Whew!" she exclaimed, tearing off her gag. Now that she had a hand free, the job went more quickly, but there were still numerous knots to undo. Just as she finished the last one binding her legs, she heard a knock on her door.

"Princess Ruthie-Beth, are you awake yet?" It was Prince Marcus, of course, anxious to discover the results of the Princess Test.

"Yes, stop making all that noise; I'm awake!" she called back irritably. Her bad mood was quite understandable; after all, she had spent most of the night struggling to get free of her bonds rather than sleeping! "I'll be out in just a minute. Sheesh, what's the big hurry, anyhow?" _Oh, right, he's noticed the stolen artwork,_ she realized, quite incorrectly as it happened. Prince Marcus was terribly unobservant, and he had Other Things on his mind. She dove into her pink bathrobe and fuzzy slippers and opened the door.

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"Did you have a good night's sleep, Ruthie-Beth?" Prince Marcus asked as soon as she sleepily opened the door. "Good and restful, or not so much so, perhaps?"

Ruthie-Beth glanced at the hallway walls, now devoid of the paintings that had hung there the night before. She gazed with wonder at Marcus. "Um, Marcus, isn't there something important on your mind?"

"Yes!" he replied. "The night you just spent. Was your mattress soft, or was it all uncomfortable so you stayed up all night, instead? How much sleep would you say you got last night?"

"I sure didn't sleep much," Ruthie-Beth answered, "although that was because…"

"Wonderful!" Marcus shouted loudly. "I knew you were a real princess, Ruthie-Beth!"

"I'm sorry, Marcus," Ruthie-Beth said softly. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I've got to come clean. I'm no princess at all, just a plain country girl who got a bit carried away with her fancies."

"Of course you're a princess," said Marcus. "I tested… I mean, I can tell!"

"No, Marcus, I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Yes you are," Marcus insisted. "So that means we can get married."

"Excuse me," said Ruthie-Beth. "Are you saying you want to marry me just cuz you think I'm a princess?"

"Exactly," Marcus agreed.

Ruthie-Beth sighed. She couldn't truly be upset with him for acting that way, considering her own behavior earlier. "I'm sorry, Marcus; I thought once that's what I wanted, but now I realize that's just not good enough for me. The day I get married, it'll be to a feller who who'll take me for who I am, not who he'd like me to be."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Marcus, his face flushing red. He had a quick temper. "You're a princess and we're getting married! Stop being difficult!" He reached to grab her arm. "You're not getting away!"

Ruthie-Beth responded by throwing his hand off her, and then his entire body against the wall. Marcus slumped down on the floor, looking dazed. "Right!" announced Ruthie-Beth. "You'd better not try that again! I suggest you take a walk around the block and cool down. I'm going inside and getting changed, and I don't want any more of your misbehaving when I come out!"

She slammed and locked the door, and hurriedly changed into her blue dress. _What a creep!_ she thought as she angrily stuffed her bathrobe into her overnight bag. _Manhandling a delicate girl like me, and he's been buying stolen goods too, just to fancify his place! I'm sure glad I came to my senses in time, or I'd've made a terrible mistake with him!_

"Try anything funny and you'll get more!" she shouted loudly as she opened the bedroom door, but Marcus was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe he took my advice and took that walk around the block," she said optimistically. "I hope I never see him again."

Clutching her overnight bag tightly, she strode to the front door.

"Gotcha!" shouted Prince Marcus!

"Eek!" exclaimed Ruthie-Beth. As she had reached for the door know, he had silently looped a coil of rope around her, pinning her arms against her sides! "You let me go right now or you'll be sorry!" she screamed, scuffling wildly.

It was a hard struggle for Marcus, but he managed to bind her arms while avoiding taking too much damage from the sharp heels of her snakeskin boots. "I'd better shut you up!" he snarled angrily.

"You won't quiet me!" Ruthie-Beth promised him, louder than ever. "I'm going to make plenty of noise, and do much more than that! I don't know where you got the idea that…"

Marcus placed the center of a necktie between her lips and knotted the ends behind her head.

"…you could tie up a girl just cuz she won't marry you," Ruthie-Beth continued, not the slightest bit silenced by the necktie, "but I'm going to correct that misapprehension right quick when I get loose!"

"You'll never get loose!" said Marcus, wondering desperately how he was going to bind her legs. And those ropes around her arms seemed none to secure, either. "I'll fly you back in a private jet to West Zhdalstk, where you won't be able to escape!"

"I'll not ever stop trying to escape you!" Ruthie-Beth promised, trying to open the door despite her condition. "Oh, if only a real prince would come to my rescue!"

The front door suddenly opened. "Everything okay in here, baby?" asked The Wolf, nonchalantly walking in. "I thought I heard some shouting outside!"

"Yes, everything's fine!" shouted Marcus. "And how'd you get in here? I double locked that door!"

"No, everything's not okay, Wolfy," said Ruthie-Beth. "Marcus is trying to carry me off to his awful country so he can marry me against my will!"

"Hey, that's not right!" said The Wolf. He flicked the rope binding Ruthie-Beth, who instantly came free.

"You know what I'm going to do now?" Prince Marcus bluffed, trying to make his voice sound dangerous.

"Yeah, you're going to scram, if you know what's good for you!" Ruthie-Beth answered.

Apparently, Marcus did know what was good for him, for he promptly scrammed, locking himself in his bedroom.

"Come on, Wolfy, see me home," invited Ruthie-Beth. "Gee, I wish you was a prince!"

"Yeah, but I am!" he announced, picking up her overnight bag. "Don't you know? I'm the Prince of Wolves, baby!"

"Okay, Wolfy, you can be a prince if you like!" Ruthie-Beth replied with a laugh.

"No, baby, not if I like; I really am a prince!"

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Several hours passed before Prince Marcus felt brave enough to emerge from his bedroom. As he descended the stairs, he finally noticed the missing artwork, which did not improve his mood. "I wonder what else can go wrong today?" he asked as he checked the mail. "A letter from Auntie and Uncle? I suppose they're getting impatient since I haven't given them any news about finding a suitably royal bride."

He tore open the envelope and gave a yip of surprise. "I'm off the hook! They say I don't have to get married after all!" He danced around his living room, hugging the envelope to his chest. "Well, what a stroke of luck that is, in view of that princess escaping!"

He recalled there were people who felt that whenever someone did something bad, that something bad would then happen back as retribution. "Call it karma or what you will, but that only applies to commoners, not royalty like myself!" he exclaimed, for he knew he had behaved very badly to Ruthie-Beth, even though he would never admit it. "Instead of any kind of punishment, I received a reward!

"Of course, I'm still at the mercy of my uncle," he complained. "Who knows what next he'll order me to do? I can't wait until I'm king and don't have to put up with that any longer!"

He sighed, thinking the first thing he would do after his coronation would be to issue a royal decree, banning all wolves from entering West Zhdalstk. With that happy thought, he returned to the letter. As he continued reading, however, the color drained from face.

**The time has now come to reveal to you some wonderful news concerning an event we have been planning for some time now. As you know, your Aunt and I are unable to have any children of our own. After much consideration, we have decided to adopt. We are delighted to announce that you have a baby niece, Princess Adele, who is a joy and delight to us. As our heir, she will one day be Queen of West Zhdalstk, thus relieving you of the tedious chore of ever having to govern the kingdom yourself.**

King Boris' writing of his new daughter continued for some length, but the letter slipped from Marcus' trembling fingers as he sat down abruptly, somberly digesting the news.

"Now I'll never become king," he thought unhappily. "Or will I?" He straightened suddenly. True, he could do nothing now, but his aunt and uncle would not be around forever! He thought of the far future, with Adele a grown woman, trusting him! Yes, he could wait. What plots he would unleash then!


End file.
